Rumble
by ThePotterGeek
Summary: Did you think that Will and the gang were the first to speak against the hero/sidekick dicotomy? Well, you thought wrong. This is the story of girl with an interesting power and an even more interesting friends, and she's going to shake things up!
1. Shooting for the Moon

Hey everyone! Arnold here. This is my first Sky High fic, so… welcome! I hope you enjoy!

There are many people whom I'd like to thank (you know who you are), but they're at the bottom, so that I don't bore you all to death.

**IMPORTANT: This is NOT A WARREN/OC STORY!!! Just wanted to get that out there. After reading some of the really good Warren/OCs, I feel like I'd have a lot to live up to, and I'm not sure I could. So I settled for basically creating my own story, except for the fact that I'm stealing the school, teachers, and the characters. Okay, fine, maybe not entirely my own story, but you've got to admit, Sky High is a pretty good idea. This was originally going to be **_way_** before any of the 'gang' ever got to Sky High, but I changed it so that most of the characters are in Warren's grade (two years older than Will and everybody, same grade as Lash and Speed, grade below Gwen and Penny). But if you're looking for a story with a lot of the 'gang', you won't be getting it. At least, not until much later, if at all. Just letting you know. **

**Let's get ready to rumble!**

**Are you ready?**

Rumble

Shooting for the Moon and Stars

If you were a normal citizen and I stopped you on the street and told you I had a superpower (assuming that I'd tell you—which is unlikely—and that you would believe me—which is even more unlikely), you would probably think that was the coolest thing since Elvis. To citizens, superpowers in any shape or size are considered _awesome_. If you were a hero, however, and I told you what my power was, you'd scorn me.

That's the problem with our society. People are given these abilities, incredible abilities, and are split into classes based on what they cannot control and cannot even attempt to change. The second such a person walks into high school, they're either handed a first class ticket that flies them through on the Easy Breeze, or they're given a handicap that hinders them for the rest of their life and keeps them from rising in the world.

There are a few heroes who understand, vaguely, what it is to be a sidekick, only because they grow close to one or two. Yet, when asked about changing, very few would back the end of the hero/sidekick hierarchy.

Hypocrites. Cowards. They're comfortable with what we have, because they don't have the short end of the stick. There are even sidekicks who don't want to change, just because it's change, and it's frightening. If there were no more class system, they'd have the same rights as heroes-- but also the same responsibilities. And frankly, it scares the hell out of them.

Can I be blamed for wanting to protect my daughter from this unfair world in which she won't be given a fair chance? I know I should have faith in her, but with the people who are running the schools, in all likelihood, she won't become a hero. She won't become great. All I want for my baby girl, my only child, all I want is for her dreams to come true. But she's shooting for the stars, and all she'll end up with is a mouthful of cloud.

_~PPP~PPP~_

All I've ever wanted was to be a superhero and save the world. I'm not quite sure why-- my mom didn't exactly raise me to hate the idea, but her biases and dislike of the whole concept permeated my childhood. The reason was always there, under the hard but brittle surface, which took me twelve years to crack.

I remember the day perfectly. All my friends had just left my birthday party, and I had asked her again what had happened to my father. I'd been pouncing on her every chance I had since I turned six and realized other people actually had male parental units. My mother wouldn't tell me, but I waited patiently, hoping that someday she'd break.

And break she did. Not in the spectacular way I imagined, the way that's always pictured in movies-- the cover shattering completely and letting the rapids out. There was no fuss, no tears, no hysterics. My mother was always smoother than that.

She same me down at the kitchen table, took a deep breath, looked at me, and began.

"His name was David, David Skellar," she told me. "He was the hero that I was paired with after my graduation from Sky High.

"We were a great team. Whiteshot was what he called himself, and his ability to manipulate his bones required a healer almost every time he used it. And he couldn't have been kinder to me. He was one of the few who understood, to a certain extent, what sidekicks went through. He understood that I had never wanted to fight or save people's lives anywhere but a hospital. There wasn't much either of us could do about it, though he tried his hardest."

"What happened to him?" I remember asking, my heart beating with excitement now that I was _finally_ hearing something about my mother's concealed past, my hidden origins.

"There were many rumors circulating about the two of us. How we were in love, dating, engaged. We _had_ been dating, whether we were in love… I guess I'll never know. I sure _thought_ I was in love, but I was only nineteen.

"He was murdered. Killed by a villain known as the Puppeteer. He was…" She paused, seemingly searching for the right word. "…obsessed with me. He'd been discovered by people from Sky High in the asylum that his parents had taken him to. They were citizens who thought he was crazy, because of his powers, they didn't understand. Well, he _was_ crazy, and he got kicked out halfway through junior year because of it. Nothing good came of that, seeing as he got out of the asylum he'd been put back into in less than a month. His career of villainy hasn't stopped since."

As a naive kid who'd been waiting for superpowers to arrive and to go to Sky High to help mankind, I couldn't imagine someone wanting to abuse their power like that. Eyes wide, I asked, "What can he _do_?"

"Control people's bodies with his mind. He was expelled for forcing teachers to do things. Not even something a normal teenager would want, like giving him good grades…" For the first time in the whole narrative, my mom shuddered. "Terrible things. One person died before they got rid of him." She fell silent, lost in awful memory, and I waited, knowing she would resume when she was ready.

"He heard the rumors and he became angry. All I remember is him bursting in and strangling David--" Her voice broke, and I took it as my cue to stop interrogating her and to start cleaning up.

As I folded blankets and listened to my mother's harsh breathing in the kitchen, I reflected on my childhood, trying to remember if my mom had dropped any hint that something so dark and horrifying lurked in her past. I racked my brains, but… nothing. Despite not having a father, my childhood had been fairly normal. A haze of school, dancing, playing, singing at the top of my lungs in the living room with a chocolate cigar as my microphone… Nothing bad. Nada. Mom had always, _always_ been happy and under control.

That was the thing about mom-- cool and collected, never showing me outright what she was really feeling, though as I grew, I got better at reading her moods. It always seemed as though I was nothing like her. I was blonde, emerald eyed, eccentric and vivacious, where she was darker, brunette and brown eyed, and always more withdrawn. We looked alike except for the coloring and height-- I was a midget and she was average-- yet I always felt very different from her. We were close, but I felt as if I didn't take after her at all.

With a sigh, I shoved all of the blankets and pillows into a closet (another point on which my mother and I differed- orderliness). Unable to listen to my mother's sniffling any longer, I escaped to my room.

Despite the lack of proof or indication, of course I believed her. Why would my mother lie to me?

_~PPP~_

A few months later I skipped into my house carrying a bag of party favors and singing at the top of my lungs. My mother greeted me with a smile. "How was the party, sweetie?"

"_Wonderful_," I said with feeling. "There was a piñata and _I_ was the first one to make a hole, and there were these piano players who played songs and we sang along… Mommy, can you play piano at my next party?"

My mom chuckled and kissed my head. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Now go and finish your homework."

Groaning, I trudged upstairs. The party still clung to me, and I did _not_ want to study for that French test. I _hated_ French. No offence to them, but their language sucked. It all sounded so snobbish, and I, for the life of me, wasn't able to grasp it. Cramming was the only way to go.

I sat down at my desk. Heaving another sigh, I picked up my vocab cards, and started testing myself.

Around four o'clock, my mother stuck her head into my room to tell me she was going grocery shopping. I nodded once to show that I'd heard her, but refused to be distracted. I forced my mind to focus on the grammar rules before me.

About five was when I started feeling the pangs of hunger. I was able to ignore them at first, but they kept getting steadily worse. I pushed them out of my mind, mentally telling my stomach to tough it up. To my surprise, it worked. The hollow feeling disappeared.

My mother came home at five thirty, and dinner was on the table by six. Afterwards, I returned to my room, and worked steadily through the night, pushing off tiredness and hunger.

Thinking I was still asleep, my mom left early to go to work the next day without peeking into my room. Or, at least, I didn't hear her. I wouldn't let myself think of anything but French. I was even _thinking_ in French. _Maybe I'll do well on this test. Please, please, please._

The last thing I remember is staring at my worksheet on adjectives, and then everything went black.

_~PPP~_

I opened my eyes to white everywhere. It was a stark contrast to the black I'd been seeing, and I needed to blink a few times at the brightness of it all. Everything smelled sterile, and it took me only a few more moments before I realized that I was at the hospital with an I.V. in my arm. I wasn't able to notice anything else, however, before a pair of arms enveloped me.

"Sweetheart! Oh, I'm so glad you're all right!"

My mother didn't show much emotion very often, so seeing her like that got me rather alarmed.

"What happened?"

"I came home from my shift, and you were unconscious on your desk! What did you _do_ to yourself?"

Before I could even begin to think of an answer, a doctor walked into the room. He had bright blue eyes and dark brown hair. He was also tall. I felt my neck crack as I looked up at him, but, thankfully, he sat down on the other side of my bed, facing my mom.

I sat up a little straighter as he looked in my eyes, ears, and mouth, then checked my reflexes with one of those rubber hammers. I'm afraid of those things. What if, one day, a doctor picks one up, and it isn't rubber, and they don't realize it and they shatter your kneecap?

But my knees were safe, and my reflexes appeared to be fine. "Everything seems to be working properly. I think you passed out because of a combination of exhaustion, malnutrition, and dehydration." When my first reflex was to translate all of that into French, I got a little scared, but calmed myself down with the thought that I would _ace_ that test.

Mom rounded on me, but the doctor interrupted her before she could yell at me. "I believe you have developed your superpower."

I snorted. "The ability to _faint_? Great power."

He waited patiently for me to shut up, looking amused. "No. The Bureau of Superpowered Affairs placed me here for cases that have to do with superpowers. I deal with all the power-related injuries that come to the hospital. Injuries that would blow our cover. Part of _my_ power is the ability to detect what superpowers others have. You, my dear, have complete control over your body."

It took a second for this to sink in. "I _what_?"

"You can control not only your voluntary actions with your mind, but you can also control involuntary actions. You can also dictate your body's strength and flexibility."

In a sort of daze, I stood up. My mother tried to help me, but the doctor stopped her with a significant look that I barely saw.

I wasn't hungry, but I was still groggy from sleeping. I ordered my brain to wake up. Instantly, I felt wide-awake and energy jolted through my veins. Just because I now was certain that I could, I sank into the splits, what I'd been working hard on retaining as my childlike flexibility left me. It was laughably easy; I didn't even feel the burn. I turned back to the adults in the room. One was smiling; the other was staring in amazement. A grin crept up my face.

_~PPP~_

That night, I sat on the floor of my mother's Secret Sanctum, staring at her old costume. Around the outfit's case were newspaper clippings and pictures of Whiteshot, with Nightingale behind him like a shadow, black-and-white photo not doing the delicate shade of grey justice, and, of course, not able to depict the fiery red cross with its bright orange boarder properly. Here all the colors sort of blended together, so you couldn't see that there was an outline around the cross at all. No matter how plain she looked in the picture, people were still cheering for her.

_How could she just give that up?_ I asked myself, not for the first time, as I looked around the room. It had been converted into office once she'd given up actively saving the world and turning to saving those who save the world. There were cabinets filled with the files of her patients; every superhero's medical record, even if they'd never been admitted to the Medical Department of the Bureau, was stored there.

She was happy with her job, and had saved more superheroes from radiation poisoning and skeletal malfunctions and villainy-inflicted injuries of the mortal sort than anyone had ever cared count. Being one of the strongest healers since Hale (and he lived in the nineteenth century), she had quickly risen through the ranks at the Bureau. Despite her immense power and how valuable she's been to superhero society, she doesn't get paid as much as an active hero (barely more than even an active sidekick). It's because of the screwed up mentality of our world. You're not _really_ important unless you're out there kicking ass. But you're not allowed to be out there kicking ass big time unless you're a hero.

I recalled the conversation my mother had with me in the car on the way home from the hospital. She told me more details about _her_ Sky High experience, as if I would remember them better now that I would actually be going.

My mom never wanted to be a superhero, and Sky High just made that worse. Because she was a sidekick, my mother didn't get a say in anything-- how she was taught, what her career would be, who she was paired with-- and everyone who goes there assumes everyone wants to do the same thing: save the world one kitten at a time. All that my mother wanted to do was to learn how to use her powers better, then heal for the rest of her life. They only listened to her after Skellar-- _my fa__ther,_ I thought, with a little jiggle of my head-- was killed. They were so shaken up that they finally listened when my mom put her foot down. Although she never told anyone official, she blamed herself for his death, as if she could have stopped it.

And now she's convinced I'll go through something similar. It's true; my power will probably land me in sidekick class. But I don't care. It'll hinder my ability to save the world, but I'll impress everyone. I'll be the greatest sidekick the world's ever known.

Maybe I'll be lucky, like mom, and get paired with a superhero who has an idea of what sidekicks go through. Maybe he or she will let me stand up beside them one day, call _me_ the hero. And maybe, just maybe, I'll get the glory for one shining moment. I'll work my hardest for that. I want to save the world.

And you know what they say: "Shoot for the moon, because even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."

_~PPP~_

**And in the next chapter, you'll actually learn their names! Isn't that just lovely?**

**A note I didn't want to add to the beginning, because it was just too damn long-- the main narrator in this story will be the girl who narrated the second half of the story. The first half was done by her mother, who won't appear very often. There will be other spinners of this tale, and they will appear quite randomly, but hopefully you'll be able to tell who it is. Such switches will be indicated by a **_**~PPP~PPP~ **_**in the middle of the page, as opposed to my break, which is just plain ol' **_**~PPP~.**_** I hope that's not too confusing.**

**A few people I want to thank, who made this story possible:**

**First and foremost, to my lovely beta, ProtectorofCanon2. She's the one who introduced me to the wonderful Sky High fandom. She also helped me while I was coming up with ideas, and listened as I came up with all these ridiculous powers and even rationalized them for me (you'll see this later). **

**Secondly, I would like to acknowledge Jeune Chat, author of ****War and Peace In Mind**** and related works. She's the first story in this fandom that I read, and WaPIM was really what got the creative juices flowing for me. She's also letting me use one of her ideas, the Bureau for Superpowered Affairs.**

**Thirdly (and this is the biggest- no offence, POC2), to Katharwen. She responded to my desperate plea for names for almost every single one of my characters. She put up with me even after I told her I was finished with her, and became sort of like a second beta (a… gamma?). **

**Finally, I'd like to thank Issak,****with whom I threw around ideas, along with POC2, to the immense puzzlement of everyone in the vicinity (all of whom haven't seen Sky High. The losers.)**

**Next stop: Sky High!**

**~Arnold~**


	2. Power Placement

***Arnold rises from the dead* I liiiiiiiiive!!! And I suck a lot, I know. School has been insane, and I've been working on this chapter bit by bit, and finally finished it up last night. Since I'm a day away from summer vacation (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), hopefully I'll be able to update more often. If any of you have read my other stories, you will know that I say that a lot, and don't always follow through. But I'll try.**

_**Hi, guys, I'm Sarah. (Yes, the Sarah in the story is essentially me.) I'll be betaing this story. I'm here making sure the author doesn't write anything that's blatently stupid. Of course, I'm only human....**_

_**Just kidding. She's a great author. Enjoy!**_

**And she's back for round 2! Is anyone excited? Because I am…**

**It's a High in the sky. Now tell me-- could I think of that? Nossir, I couldn't.**

Rumble 

Power Placement

"You! Blondie! I'm _talking_ to you! Get up here!"

I wouldn't have noticed Boomer at all if it hadn't been for the boy standing next to me giving me a sharp elbow in the ribs. Wincing slightly, I broke out of my reverie.

I'd paid attention to Principal Powers's welcome speech, but once Coach Boomer got on the scene, I stopped caring. The few people who'd been placed before me had fairly quiet powers (I think one was a telepath), allowing me to zone out without interruption of an explosion. Unfortunately, when I zone out, its takes a lot to bring me back (pain helps). And then it takes me a few moments to remember where I am. So it was about a minute before I hopped on the platform.

After rolling his eyes several times at me, Boomer asked, "Name?"

"Haley Lekarza."

"Power?"

"My mind has complete control over my body."

Silence. This always happens. And here it comes, the inevitable: Three, two, one…

"_What?_"

"Whatever my body has the potential or ability to do, my mind can force it to do."

Some kid's eyes widened, but Coach Boomer was unimpressed. "Sidekick," he said dismissively, making a note on his (ever present, according to my mother) clipboard.

With a shrug, I walked down the stairs. Some people whispered hotly, and the guy next to me told me that I should have been a hero, but, aside from being pleased with their reactions, I tried not to let my placement affect me. I'd known what I'd get ahead of time. My mother had warned me about Boomer. She'd gone to school with him, and he was only impressed by showy, flashy, "cool" looking powers like his own (in his own opinion, anyway. I mean, the ability to shout? _Come on_.) And only the ones who impressed him became heroes. My powers weren't showy or flashy. I couldn't even really prove that they even existed, because someone could always say that I'd trained to be able to do what I did, and that I was lying. So I shouldn't have felt disappointed. But I was. There was that sick, sinking feeling in my stomach, which I tried desperately to keep from showing on my face. The last time I felt like this was when Stacey Grant got the solo in the dance recital that I'd worked so hard to deserve. But my best wasn't good enough.

Even though there was little chance of Coach Boomer yelling at me again if I daydreamed, I paid attention as a pallid girl with curly black hair and black eyes stepped up onto the platform. After stating her name (Vivian Grey), the world exploded, only there was no destruction. Left behind were outrageous colors. Boomer was sporting baby blue skin with a pink and purple tracksuit, which clashed horribly with his blood red hair. I examined a lock of my own lime green hair, amused. Most people in the room had the same reaction. One boy was turning purple, he was laughing so hard (or, what would have been purple if the colors were normal, but the sickening brown of his face was growing darker and darker with each passing second.)

The next moment, it was all gone, back to normal. Except for the girl. She was no longer dull or boring-looking. She now sported a dusting of freckles on her face, which didn't look so pasty now that fiery red hair surrounded it and bright hazel eyes adorned it. And it was difficult to look depressing while smiling the biggest smile I've ever seen in my entire life (and that's _including_ the teeth on that radioactive hippo my mother has a picture of in her sanctum.)

Vivian Grey struck a pose.

Coach Boomer finished rubbing his eyes, and then said, "So… you can change colors?"

"Basically, yeah. But I have to ask for their permission first."

Boomer just blinked incredulously at her. I guess he decided (along with half of the freshman class) to just write her off as a weirdo and move on. "Sidekick," he said, still looking like he didn't know what to make of her. More muttering. I heard the boy who'd nearly died laughing tell her that she should have been put into hero class just because of the show we all got out of it. She smiled that gigantic smile and thanked him.

Next up was the guy standing next to me, the one who'd saved me from further embarrassment (I had the bruise to prove it) and who'd reassured me after I got shoved unceremoniously into the loser track. He towered over me at what looked like six feet (though from down here, it's sometimes hard to tell), with blonde hair and brown eyes. He looked pretty nervous; he'd probably been freaked out by the harsh treatment of the people who'd gone before him.

He walked up the stairs like he was walking to the gallows. "Name?"

"James Griffin." Poor kid. I hope he does all right.

"Power?"

"I fly."

"Show me."

Clearly, this was the part he'd been dreading. He didn't argue or whine, just grimaced and turned around. There was a feminine intake of breath as he stripped off his shirt, but instead of a normal human back, a pair of enormous white wings protruded from his shoulder blades held down by a black harness. He pulled it off and jumped into the air. The girls (some more openly than others) stared at his pecs as he soared overhead.

All traces of anxiety (which, I realized, must have only been at the prospect of taking his shirt off in front of hormonal teenage girls) were gone from his face. He didn't even seem to remember that we were here. When he landed, the ecstasy was still on his face as he strapped his wings down again and pulled on his shirt. Suddenly, he was a normal human being.

"Hero!"

He walked off the platform with relief etched on his face, soaking in the congratulations (which probably were partly on having such a toned chest) and uncomfortably taking in the fact that the freshwomen were staring at him with a new appreciation. I just smiled at him and turned my attention to Coach Boomer once more, who selected his next victim: a tall Persian girl who stated her name as Kaitlyn before electrocuting the car that came out of nowhere and was proclaimed a hero.

A guy with the power of invisibility made the blackened outline of the car disappear.

The next one who went up didn't look nervous or excited. He just looked pissed. His expression said, "Fuck the world," and his dark eyes burned. There were red streaks in his black hair and flame tattoos climbing up his arms. But I didn't need him to say his name to know that this was Warren Peace, Baron Battle's son. I'd seen pictures of the supervillain, and this kid looked almost _exactly_ like him. It was rather frightening.

With an animalistic roar that made the hair on my arms stand up, his hands and wrists ignited around his leather jacket. He threw a fireball at the shell of the car, which was reduced to ashes. His expression didn't change when he was proclaimed a hero; he just trudged down the stairs. There was a good two-foot radius of cleared space around him now, but he didn't seem to care.

The next kid got an encouraging pat on the shoulder from Vivian Grey. He winced a little at the touch. He too had dark hair and eyes, but he couldn't look more different than Warren Peace. His eyes weren't hard and hating, just soft and sad. Like Peace, however, he looked older than fourteen. His name was Reuven Goldberg. He said that he could see the future. When asked to prove it, he pulled out a mirror. His gaze turned inward for a minute, and then he pointed at a girl with strawberry blonde hair. "She's going to go next, and she has the power to read people."

Boomer looked a little put out. He could have lied to himself and said that she was _not_ who he was going to choose next, but what was the point?

Reuven's eyes brightened a little. "I could tell you more, if you want."

"No, no, that's okay--"

"Your birthday's in December. You're family's going to take you to the Paper Lantern, where _he _works--"

"_THAT'S ENOUGH!_"

He wouldn't have gone on anyway. He'd just realized that he'd pointed a finger at Warren Peace.

After being proclaimed a hero (it appeared that Boomer would say anything to get him to stop talking), he stepped off the stage in favor of the girl he'd mentioned, whose name was Phoebe Jones. She explained that she could read people's expressions, body language, and moods like a book. She could also sense changes in the tone of someone's speech. "Subtleties," she concluded, "I read subtleties. It's almost as accurate as reading minds, unless someone is a fantastic liar."

Boomer rolled his eyes. "Sidekick." He pointed at the next kid, who seemed to vanish and reappear onstage. Only the wind and a multicolored blur marked his passing.

"Speed Stevens," he said, before the question was asked. A few people in the crowd snickered. "Like the drug?" I heard someone ask.

Either Speed didn't hear them, or he chose--wisely-- to ignore them. He didn't feel the need to state his power-- he had already shown off. Now he waited.

"Hero!"

Looking relieved and trying to hide it under a smug smirk, he 'sped' off the platform as the bell rang for lunch.

Everyone meandered into the hallway, out the door of the building with the gym and nurse and administrative offices, and into the sunlight. We were all talking to different people, trying to form as many alliances as we could before we had to face the upper classmen.

I began talking to a girl with dark brown skin, darker brown hair, and even darker brown eyes. She greeted me by saying, "Hey, shortie." Sticking out her hand, she introduced herself. "Shauna Jackson."

Glaring up at her, I assessed that she was about a half a foot taller than me. Maybe more. She was a big girl in general, wide through the shoulders, chest, hips, and thighs. Her feet were a quarter or a third larger than my own.

"Hey, giant," I replied, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, letting her know that while I was short, I was tough.

"Fee fie foe fum."

"I don't think the cafeteria sells Englishmen."

"Damn. I'll just have to wait until I get home."

We then talked of our families ("Your _mother_ is Nightengale? She saved my brother's life!" "Your _brother_ stopped that bomb from exploding?"), our interests, our old schools, and in about five minutes, it felt like we'd know each other for much longer than that. While we spoke, we said short hellos to everyone else. By the time we reached the main building, we had become acquainted with every member of the freshman class, at least on the most basic level: names.

When we reached the cafeteria, the freshmen stopped, staring. This being only the second glimpse of the student body, it was a bit overwhelming. Most of us had gone to public schools, so we weren't afraid of crowds, but few of us had seen so many superpowered beings in one room. And the superpowers were showing, because no one paid attention to the rule of no using powers outside the gym. A pyro lit up to heat her chocolate milk. A small dog scampered around, eating the food that fell on the floor. A kid broke a piece of silverware and swore at his superstrength.

Most of the freshmen stood there with wide eyes, trying to take it all in. Vivian, however, didn't let anything faze her. She stopped for a moment in the doorway, looked around, then began walking purposefully over to a table, Reuven, more animated than he had been in the gym, following her, talking to Phoebe.

Most of the freshmen went straight to the lunch line, and Shauna and I followed suit, deciding we'd find a place to sit once we had food. Vivian came to the line then, and we began talking.

"Hey guys," she said in greeting. Everything was a little awkward. We barely knew each other, and Shauna and I had just clicked, so letting someone else "in" so early was a bit strange.

"Who did you go talk to?" Shauna asked. She was much more talkative than me, I noticed. Probably because she'd lived around most of these people growing up. Me, I lived a few streets away from the Peace residence. (That's the one thing we had in common-- we were both a tad underprivileged. But _that's it_.)

"One of my old friends. She offered to let me sit at a table with her friends, because I'd know practically nobody."

"That was nice of her," I put in meekly, cursing my shyness in the presence of new people. I _did_ have cool, impressive, smart things to say; I just didn't say them around people I don't know.

There was a small silence. "Do you want to sit with us?" she asked, breaking it.

Realizing it would take me a year to answer, I let Shawna agree for us.

By the time we were halfway through lunch, I wasn't shy anymore. The table we were sitting at was filled with nice people who were easy to talk to.

Besides Vivian, Reuven, and Phoebe, there was Sarah, an illusionist (her form of 'hello' was to create a black cat out of nothing and have it wind its way around the two of us. I swear, I could almost feel it purr); Bomb, whose legal name was "Boom" (he had been allowed to name himself-- being obsessed with explosions, which were also his power, he had picked "Boom." Once older, he had been able to change to "Bomb" but nothing more normal; Emily (nicknamed "Emergy"), who could digest things quickly outside of her body and gained energy from it (eating food made her extremely hyper); Gary, who teleported in front of us to shake hands and show off his power at the same time; and Seth, a telekinetic, who made a spoon tap us of the shoulder and we had to shake it like a hand or else it would become depressed and throw itself in the garbage.

During lulls in the conversation, I looked around the cafeteria. I noticed that the freshman, unless they knew someone in the school already, were sitting with one another. _It's nice to know that even though we go to a whacko school, things like cliques don't change,_ I thought bitterly.

Too soon, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Grumbling, the upperclassmen got themselves together, said goodbye to the freshman, and went off to their respective classes. The rest of us went to continue having our lives set in stone before we've lived them-- in other words, Power Placement.

By the time Shauna, Vivian and I (Reuven and Phoebe were still deep in conversation somewhere behind us) got back to the gym, someone was already walking up the steps. This kid was _tall_, and it was clear that he was still growing.

"Name?"

"Lash Livingston."

"Power?"

He stretched his arms up to the ceiling, grabbed one of the rafters, and pulled himself up. By stretching out his legs, his feet again touched the floor as he returned to his normal height.

"Hero!" Boomer's obvious enthusiasm for heroes and obvious disdain for sidekicks was beginning to get on my nerves.

Smirking and pumping his fist in the air (making it nearly touch the ceiling again), he jumped off the stage and exchanged high-fives with Speed, who, I noticed, was more than half a head shorter than his friend. That made me feel a little bit better about being friends with a tall girl.

Said giant was called up next, and it was then that I realized I didn't know what her power was. She promptly dropped to the floor in a dead faint, making almost everyone panic. One girl kept her cool and chucked a waterbomb at her, which I realized came from her hands.

She came to. Dripping, she grinned at the girl who woken her up, who's hands were still wet. "Thanks."

"You can make yourself _faint_?" Boomer asked, surprised in that bad way.

"Or ridiculously hyper. I control my energy levels."

He rolled his eyes. "Sidekick." Rounding on the girl who'd thrown the water, he asked, "Hydrokinetic?"

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Krista Eaton."

"You're a hero."

Looking surprised at her abrupt placement, she said, "Cool."

A girl who looked frighteningly similar to Krista was called up next. They could practically pass for identical twins, but there was an almost unnamable difference between them. Both had eyes of the exact same color, but this girl's were colder. Her hair was the exact same white blonde, but it was somehow stiffer than Krista's easy waves. Looking at her, I shivered involuntarily. I'd noticed these two on the way to the cafeteria, but I hadn't looked long enough.

"Name?"

"Rebecca Eaton."

"Power?"

In answer, ice formed around her hands. She pulled a pin from her hair, froze it, and broke it in two.

"Hero." The girl allowed herself the ghost of a smile and began to gracefully climb down the steps. Looking a little troubled, Boomer asked, "You two related?" pointing at Krista. A chuckle ran through the crowd of freshmen. _Anyone_ could see that.

"Yeah." She didn't wait for him to dismiss her. She might never have gotten a dismissal if she had waited. She turned back around and walked back next to her… sister? Cousin? Whatever they were.

A girl named Dawn went next and transformed herself into a large, majestic wolf, howled, and became a hero. Another girl could change her skin to steel, making her invulnerable and strong. Another hero. A kid named Dave lasered the wall with his eyes, and was named (you guessed it) a hero.

Next went a boy who walked with a limp so slight, many people had probably overlooked it. I struggled to remember his name.

It was just starting to come to me when he said, "Chris Cavall."

"What's your power?"

"It's not so much a power as a mutation."

"Show me, kid, we haven't got all day."

He rolled up his pant leg and began to take off the shoe on his left foot. This was a bigger production than it should have been because there was a whole contraption keeping the thing on. And what he revealed was _not_ a normal leg.

First of all, it lacked a foot. The skin faded into nonexistence to reveal the bone underneath, which was elongated and _very _sharp looking. Boomer whistled, looking like he was admiring a piece of masterful artwork.

"Instead of two bones in the lower part of my leg, there is one thick, long, extremely strong and deadly sharp bone. With a good kick, I could kill someone." He recited all this like a robot, and looked like he wouldn't be happy with himself if he ended up mortally wounding someone.

Boomer didn't notice. "Hero!" he proclaimed, as Chris began the lengthy process of putting his shoe back on. Once he had replaced it, he appeared completely normal.

Well, so do we all.

_~PPP~_

**Much thanks to my lurvly beta. Review! It's so easy! They put the button right at the bottom of the page JUST to make it easier for you!**

**I love you all (even if you don't review-- but I love you more if you do)!**

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	3. What It Means To Be A Sidekick

**I'm so sorry that this took so long! Real life is the worst thing that ever happened to me!**

Rumble

What It Means To Be a Sidekick

I'm a sucker for defining moments. When change happens, I feel the need to stop and take the new feeling in. I did this while emptying out my locker before eight grade graduation, on the last day of a dance class, on the first day of a new school year. Which is why I stood for a few minutes in front of the bus that would take me home from Sky High after Power Placement was over.

Since Power Placement doesn't take such a long time, we got to come in late, and there had been a bus for the freshmen (driven by our very own Ron Wilson: Bus Driver). Now I was getting on the normal bus I'd take every day to get to classes. So I stopped and felt.

Unfortunately, I was doing so right in front of the doorway. A bunch of people complained about the blonde ditz who was keeping them from getting home. Glaring at them (I absolutely _hate_ it when people think I'm stupid _just_ because I'm blonde), I whipped my hair around and walked up the steps.

There weren't that many people on this bus (not many superheroes live in my part of town), so I figured I would be able to have a seat to myself if I didn't let one of the seniors bully me. Which I didn't intend to allow them to do.

I saw Warren Peace slouched in his seat glaring out the window. He had seemed tough and angry at Power Placement, but I could almost understand it. Everybody shunned him because of his father, and so he created a persona that made people back away, even if they didn't know his last name. It was a defense mechanism (all this I learned from a random psychology book I picked up at the library once, back when I thought that books with interesting titles _had_ to be novels). But I thought that maybe if someone were to be nice to him, he might not be so…pissed. Taking a deep breath and hoping I wasn't about to get barbequed, I sat in the seat across from him and mustered up all my cheeriness (which my mother says I have too much of, anyway) for a "Hey! What's up?"

He glanced at me, clearly thrown off guard, and for a split second he dropped his bad-ass demeanor in surprise. As quickly as he'd lost composure, he regained it and snarled, "What do you _want_?" with as much hate as I had enthusiasm.

A little put off, but determined not to show it, I replied, "To be friendly."

"Not interested." He turned his back on me and resumed his glaring at the open air outside his window. To complete his ignoring of me, he slipped on earphones.

My temper, usually not so quick to judge, boiled within me. What was his problem? I was just being nice! Forcing myself not to scream at him, I turned to look out my own window, probably looking exactly like him.

I felt someone slide in next to me. I turned to tell whoever it was to _leave me alone_ when I noticed it was Bomb, one of the guys I'd met at lunch. He was _big_, with dark black skin and kind eyes. He made me feel smaller and whiter than I ever felt, even around Shauna. But he seemed nice enough, so I forced my anger down and forced up a smile.

"That wasn't the smartest thing to do," he commented.

I examined my hands very closely. "I felt bad that no one would talk to him. I thought it was worth a try."

"Well, you're a better soul than the rest of us, that's for sure. He scares the hell out of most people, me included." When I stared at him, he laughed and said, "He's an incredibly strong pyro. Probably the strongest since his father. And look at him!" I looked. "That kid's probably going to be _at least_ six foot two."

"And you're not?"

"He's also gonna be jacked."

I punched his already muscular arm. "And you're not?" He rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was pleased.

Once we'd gotten the heavy stuff out of the way, we chatted happily for the whole bus ride. I was really glad that I had someone to take my mind off of my failure to bring Peace out of his brooding shell.

Bomb got off first. We exchanged goodbyes and he left. I glanced over at the seat across from me and breathed a sigh of relief: Warren was gone. I didn't have to freak out about him, at least.

When the bus finally pulled up at my stop, I saw my mother waiting for me. Grinning, I went to greet her. Some people hate it when their parents make public appearances. I don't.

Side by side, we strolled down the block towards our walk-up. We walked up two flights of stairs and entered our apartment.

All the shades were up and the windows were open, making the kitchen and living room bright and airy. I grabbed a banana from the counter and headed for my room. Just as I closed the door and collapsed on my bed, my mother was in the doorway.

"Okay," she said, "I think I was a very nice mother not to interrogate you on the walk home." I rolled my eyes, having noticed that she'd been straining not to speak the whole way. "How'd it go today?"

I knew the real question behind the obvious. I could see it in her eyes. "I'm a sidekick, mom." When she opened her mouth, I quickly said, "It's fine, I'm fine. I want to work hard and do well, and hopefully I'll be able to help people when I graduate. I know you're not going to be happy with it, but it's the best I've got."

"Okay, sweetie." She paused, looking as if she wanted something else to say. I guess she didn't have anything prepared beyond the hero/sidekick question. What did she think I'd do, burst into tears and need a shoulder to cry on? I thought she knew I was stronger than that.

"Did you meet anyone you like?"

Relieved, I sighed inwardly. She wasn't going to push it. Now we were just a normal mother and daughter, talking about my first day of school. "Yeah. Most of the class seems pretty nice, and there's one girl who I was talking to for a while named Shauna." Remembering that my mother might know her brother, I added, "Her last name's Jackson. Her brother is The Energist."

"Yes, I remember him. He's a very brave boy, jumping in at the last second, just before that bomb exploded…"

"And there's this other girl, Vivian Grey, and she _changes colors_. I know, it doesn't sound that cool, but she changed the color of everything, and it was hilarious. Boomer wasn't too happy with his turnout, I guess, because he put her in sidekick class. She's really nice though, and she invited us to sit with her at lunch. She has a friend who's an upperclassman, so I met a lot of people. One guy actually lives near here. He's on my bus."

Mom smiled. "That's great, sweetie. I'm glad you're making friends."

I rolled my eyes as she left. Trust my mother to make it sound like we were in kindergarten again. I had done my best to avoid that phrase, but there it was, thrown in my face. It was mocking me, saying, _You try to outsmart me, but you'll never succeed! I've got your mother on my side now! _

I shook my head to get my overactive imagination to calm down. After stretching a little (stretching helps me clear my head), I felt much better. Now all there was to do was to find something to do until I left for dance classes.

I idled away the time until five, reading and poking around on the Internet. With a start, I realized that this was my last night of freedom. After today, I'd have schoolwork and the like to occupy me. Despite my excitement for the new school year, I was _not_ anticipating that with enthusiasm.

4:45 rolled around, and I packed my stuff into a bag and left the apartment with a goodbye kiss on the cheek to my mom. I left our building and walked up the block towards one of my favorite places in the world: The Vitus School of Dance.

A voice came floating out from the desk behind a pile of papers. "You're early." I walked around behind the main desk and grinned at the woman sitting there. She had short, curly chestnut brown hair, glasses stretching over grey eyes, and perfectly straight nose.

The "early" comment was an old joke. When I was younger, I had always been so eager to come to my dancing classes that I would come a half an hour early, at the latest. Then, as I made friends with the staff, I began to enjoy hanging out here. So I did. Now a teacher as well as a student, I still came early, but not _so_ early.

"Hey, Carrie."

"Hey, Haley."

Our playful ritual complete, she began interrogating me. "How was your first day of high school?" Being a citizen, she didn't know _which_ high school, but everyone at Vitus knew that the little girl they'd watched grow up was taking a new step in her life. Most of them had come to my graduation. Hell, most of them had _cried_ at my graduation.

"It was… fine, I guess. Not much happened."

"Well, that's always true with the first day. You'll tell me more about it tomorrow." She grinned evilly. "God, I can't believe how young you are. And somehow, you're teaching here. But you're such a hell of a dancer we couldn't turn you away."

She went back to her paperwork as I frowned. That was what everyone thought: I was one hell of a dancer. What they didn't know was that I cheated. I kept my power from controlling my body as best as I could, but I couldn't stop the natural flexibility or strength, especially not when I was dancing, trying to get everything perfect. So, without me giving it the O.K., my power would work its "magic."

I had worked myself into a thoroughly atrocious mood. Only one thing to do to take my mind off of it.

I rushed to the studio I'd be teaching in, thanking any god that might be listening that it was empty. I wanted no one to see the look on my face until I had worked it off.

By the time the kids came in, I was smiling and waving like always, perfectly happy.

"Does everyone remember first position? Point your toes out as far as they can go! Now, plie`…"

"Hey, shortie."

I glared up at Bomb. "Keep talking like that, and you don't sit down."

"Like I couldn't take you."

"I may not look like much, but I pack quite the punch. And kick."

He grinned and sat down as the bus started moving. "So, you ready for your first day?"

"No. But it's not like I have much of a choice, do I?"

"Well, you could drop out."

"Not an option."

"Parents would kill you?"

"Nah. My mom would probably be pretty happy if I quit and went to a normal school. No, I would just never be able to forgive myself."

"Dreams of saving the world?"

Smiling grimly, I said, "From the backseat. Nice to know I can be read like a book."

"Well, what else could it be?"

I shrugged. "How was your first day?"

"Frightening. Let me tell you, being a junior is _not_ all its cracked up to be."

We talked easily as the bus picked up everyone, whooped and screamed together when it shot off into the sky, and simultaneously groaned when the ride was over and we had to get off and face the day.

After saying goodbye to Bomb and hello to my freshman friends, I made my way into my classroom, where I'd spend the better part of my day, with the same teacher for most of it. Another infuriating thing about the faculty is that (as if proclaiming us losers wasn't bad enough) they didn't put as much effort into educating us. We'll learn almost everything from a teacher a year, with the exception of gym (which Coach Boomer helped with, minimally, spending _much_ more time honing the bodies of the heroes), Mad Science, and a couple of crash-course seminars we get our senior year.

Since this year's freshman class is ridiculously small (fourteen heroes and ten sidekicks) there was only one class for each track.

In the sidekick class, ten desks were lined up in neat rows. Some had books sitting on them, but few had kids sitting in the chairs; they were all using their last few moments of freedom to chat with their classmates.

I dumped my bag in the seat next to Shauna's. As one of the few sitting, she had her head on her desk and her eyes were closed. "Good morning," I said brightly.

Cracking one eye open, she growled, "Go away until I either wake up or you get less cheerful."

I quickly assessed that Shauna would be addicted to coffee by sophomore year. Good, it would stunt her growth a little.

"No can do. Class is about to start."

Well, at least, the bell had rung. Their teacher, however, was nowhere in sight. Just then a short, graying man ran out from behind the chalkboard. "Hello, everyone, and welcome to Sky High! I'm…" He ran behind his desk and ducked. When he came up two seconds later, he'd changed into a superhero costume of red, white, and blue, which had probably been better suited to his twenty-year-old self. Jumping onto his desk, he shouted proudly, "All-American Boy!" He jumped down with some difficulty and continued, "But you all just call me Mr. Boy. I'll be your teacher this year, to help you become the best hero-support you can be!"

I rolled my eyes. "Hero Support" was the politically correct term for "Sidekick." No one in the professional world called sidekicks what they really were. Except Boomer. He had thrown the word at us the day before, probably to frighten the would-be losers.

"Just remember, kids, without you, many heroes of the future would be very ill-disposed to fight evil. For every hero that doesn't have a partner there is a person to support him, to watch his back. Never think that you're useless."

He said the words, but it sounded like he was losing faith in them.

And thus it began. Every day we learned more of the basics of being a sidekick. How to work and when to use gadgets, weapons, and technology would happen in the morning. Then we'd tramp off to Mad Science, where we'd learn how they worked and how to make them, as well as learning about why certain individuals have superpowers and others do not. Then, after lunch, we would study history and villains, so as to be able to supply our heroes with information at the drop of a hat (unfortunately, this meant lots of memorization, a method that wasn't exactly my forte). And that was on top of all the normal classes we had to take.

The last class of the day would be gym. We'd exercise our powers a bit and work out ways to use them to help heroes. Every few days, instead of gym, there was Save The Citizen, a game that was rather like a cage fight; the only things different about it were that for one thing, there was an object (so the teams weren't just beating each other up for the hell of it), and for another, the teachers watched, so they stepped in if they deemed things got too brutal (however, their idea of brutal and mine must be somewhat different, seeing as I'd never seen them step in, and there have been some pretty awful injuries). This was the one time of day, besides lunch, where I could relax, seeing as sidekicks were never picked to play (not that I was complaining).

I quickly settled into the routine of classes, but I had a harder time predicting my friends. How could I, when Vivian would show up to school every day with different coloring (sometimes it was so drastic, you couldn't recognize her until she smiled)? Or when Seth, the telekinetic, would have random objects greet us at lunch? Or when Bomb would randomly make something explode? Or when Sarah would randomly shove us into one of her stories, via illusion?

Eventually I learned to expect the unexpected. It wasn't too long before I stopped jumping (or worse, shrieking) whenever Gary teleported into the seat next to me.

As I got used to the life at Sky High, I began to analyze it without even realizing. All my mother's doubts about the school began to show themselves in tiny ways: how the heroes (in order of class: seniors first, freshman last) got the gym in the mornings, when everything was clean and organized; how they spent more time focusing on their individual strengths instead of having to sit through classes that covered everything, giving the general picture; even their textbooks were that much newer and up to date.

And it might have only been my mother's influence on me, but these things bothered me a little. I couldn't really do anything about how much (or how little) the school cared about sidekicks, but I _could_ do something about my own strength.

Which is why, one day at lunch about two months into school, I tried getting everyone's attention. "Guys!"

They all looked at me. I was talkative, but, unlike some, I never interrupted the general flow of the conversation at our overcrowded lunch table unless it was something important. It took Phoebe and Reuven a few moments longer than anyone else. While I was very glad that Reuven was coming out of his depression (you didn't need to be a mind reader to see that something was up with the guy- we didn't press him. If he wanted to tell us what was up, he would), it was a bit annoying how he could barely take his eyes off the girl who'd swiftly become his best friend. (_Ha!_ Friend. That's a good one, Haley.)

"I was just thinking… How much time of the day is actually spent honing our powers? Really learning to use them to the best of our ability?"

As per usual, Sarah spoke out for the table. "A ridiculously small amount. Even for heroes. Seriously, you'd think they'd devote more time to it, seeing as how we're not allowed to practice _outside_ of school, but no_,_ _that_ would be too intelligent."

"When you're a senior, you spend more time on that sort of thing," Bomb put in.

"Yeah, but what's one year if you can have four? Wouldn't you rather figure out all you can about your powers before you have to go out into the world and use them to fight evil? If your powers surprise you in the field, you're toast."

There were general noises of agreement.

"I think we should start a club. It doesn't even have to be official- we can just meet up every few days after school. I still need to talk to Principal Powers, but I wanted to ask you guys if you were interested first."

"Well, I'm interested. I'm sure not going to learn anything from Mr. Boy."

I glared at Shauna. "He does the best he can with what's given to him, which, you have to admit, isn't much."

"Yeah. He also doesn't really trust the establishment anymore, and he's preparing us to go do what he feels is pointless and basically fatal," put in Phoebe. We all stared at her, and she shrugged. "It seemed obvious to me." Obvious to _you_,Phoebe, but not to the rest of us. Sometimes her powers were a little disconcerting.

"So everyone's in?"

There were nods and agreement murmurs. "Great."

"Is this going to be made public?" Reuven asked. "Like, posted on the bulletin board, and anyone can join?"

"Well, I want to keep it small for now, at least, and see how it goes. If you guys know anyone who'd be interested, you can bring them. Provided Principal Powers approves this thing, of course."

"Excellent," said Bomb, rubbing his hands together. A lot of people got worried- he acted like that right before he blew something up. "I've always wanted to be part of an exclusive, invitation-only society."

I rolled my eyes. So did almost everyone at the table. "It's not a _society_. That sounds like something out of _Desperate Housewives_. No offence," I added hurriedly, glancing at Shauna, who was a rather devoted _Desperate Housewives_ fan. She shrugged. "It's just… a gathering of individuals who want to learn. Which is another reason I want to keep it exclusive. I don't want it to turn into just a place for kids to hang out and use their powers without getting in trouble."

"Like every single other club."

"Not every one," Gary corrected Emily. The girl shrugged and returned most of her concentration to the inkless pen before her, which no longer resembled a pen so much as chopped up bits of plastic wasting away in nonexistent stomach acid.

"Ew, Em, do you have to do that when the rest of us are trying to eat?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sarah, I, too, am trying to eat. Or, at least, gain some amount of energy for the rest of the day. _And _disposing of your garbage without having to put it in a landfill. You should be grateful. I'm saving the planet."

Bomb grinned and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Emergy, I _knew_ there was a reason we kept you around."

"Miss Lekarza? The principal will see you now."

I smiled my thanks at Mrs. Wright, Principal Powers's secretary. She was a pretty, young citizen who was sworn to secrecy, but very good at her job. There were too few superpowered beings who would have enjoyed being a receptionist and note-taker. Even retired sidekicks have their pride.

I walked into a wood-paneled room and wondered for a moment if I'd stepped out of Sky High and into a wealthy middle-aged man's study. There was wood flooring, covered by an intricately woven area rug upon which an elegant desk sat. There were pictures of all the past Sky High principals on the walls that weren't covered in bookshelves. Sitting in a carved, high-backed wooden chair behind the desk and in front of a bright window (the advantage to Sky High was that it was almost never cloudy) was Principal Powers.

"Hello, Haley."

"Hi."

"I commend you for coming in to see me; very few students are courageous enough to visit me on their own accord."

I was able to manage a small smile, but that was it. My shyness was keeping me down again.

"Mrs. Wright tells me you have a request."

"Yes," I squeaked. Horrified, I swallowed and tried again. This time, my voice came out normally, if not rather softly. "I was thinking about starting a club."

"We have a lot of clubs at this school. Why not join one of them?"

"Well…" I had gather strength to tell her about the flaws in her school. I mean, who was I to tell her that her system was stupid, and that the clubs were just ways for kids to put off going home for a few more hours?

"Other clubs don't seem very serious, and I really want to work on honing my powers before having to fight, with other people who care just as much as I do."

"You don't feel that you're getting enough practice?"

"No, I don't."

She raised her eyebrows. Had there never been someone who'd complained about this school? "Why's that?"

"Sidekicks, and even heroes, I'm told, don't spend all that much time working individually, getting rid of the kinks in their powers or learning to work around them, until at least senior year, and one year doesn't seem like enough."

"Haley, I don't want to seem like a bigot, but you're in the hero support class." She put an emphasis on "hero support," her way of telling me off for calling myself a sidekick. "You're going to use your power in conjunction with a hero, not by yourself." Even though she said the words, I could tell that she wasn't a bigot. "While I think it's praiseworthy to want to learn to use your powers better, I need to ask you why you want to so badly."

"Because…" I struggled to find the right words. This was my chance to prove to her I wasn't bitter about my lot, that I wasn't doing this to rebel. "Because only if I know the extent of my abilities will I be able to be the best hero support I can be. Because maybe one day my hero will be hurt, or even dead, and I'll have to bring the bad guy down. Because maybe the villain will be killing my hero, and I want to be able to defend him. Or her." _Because I don't want to end up like my mom._

Principal Powers scrutinized me for a moment.

"We got it."

All I got for my trouble were a few blank stares and quirked eyebrows. "The club? I mentioned it to you about twenty-four hours ago."

I rolled my eyes as comprehension lit their faces like the sunrise lights the eastern sky. "So is everyone free tomorrow night? I want to get started as soon as possible. We're going to be allowed to use the gym for an hour, with Boomer supervising. Not _intervening_," I added quickly as several people opened their mouths (to protest, no doubt- Boomer has a lot of enemies at Sky High… He's just not afraid of them because none of them are certified), "just making sure we don't do any damage. Afterwards, there'll be someone to take us all home."

"Wow, that's pretty hardcore. How the hell did you manage to convince Powers to give you all that?"

"Once I told her why I wanted to make the club, she seemed very enthusiastic about it, for all that I was criticizing her school." She had also mentioned that Boomer should work harder for his paycheck, but I'd promised her I wouldn't mention that little detail. "So all that's left now is to decide when we want to meet."

"Not Fridays," Viv and Sarah said in unison, promptly sharing a high-five. "Or Saturdays," they added. (It was scary how in sync their minds were. But maybe in this case it was because of being Jewish, and having to think about Sabbath and that sort of thing all the time.)

Everyone seemed to have some kind of problem with every day. Emergy had a sport almost every day of the week (to burn off any extra ATP she might have floating around.) Bomb had the pyro power club on Wednesdays (which he said didn't help him at all, but they burned things and blew things up, so it kept him happy.) Seth, our resident senior, was bogged down with homework. Shauna was on a track team that met on Tuesdays.

"Look, it's either after school some day or we come here Sundays." I love Phoebe. I really do.

Everyone quickly managed to agree on Thursday nights.

**Reviews are the chocolate chip to my cookie!**

**-Arnold-**


	4. Exhaustion and Rebellion

Rumble

Exhaustion and Rebellion

"Okay," I said, rubbing my hands together after I had everyone's attention. "I think we should talk about what exactly we want to accomplish with this club, and what we want to do on a weekly basis."

"Work on our powers."

Sarah whacked Bomb upside the head. "_Obviously._ She means _how_, you idiot."

"Thank you, Sarah, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't abuse the members."

Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but Vivian, sitting next to her, elbowed her in the ribs. Mocking my tone, Sarah said, "No abusing the members!" I glared ferociously at both of them, and they quieted.

Phoebe raised her hand. Shauna snatched it down. "Phoebes, this isn't class. Call out, for Christ's sake."

"Sorry. Haley just gave me the feeling that this was kind of formal. Or were you just nervous?"

"Thanks for pointing out all my inner emotions. What did you want to say?"

"Well, I think that each person should come up with specific things that they want to work on, and use this time and the equipment to do so. Unless someone comes up with something they want everyone to do. 'Cause all people want to do here is improve, right?" There was a chorus of assent. "So everyone should hone what they need to. If you need help, someone will loan you a hand, I'm sure. We're all friends here."

"Anyone got any other ideas?"

"…"

"Great. Is anyone ready to go off and do that? Or should we bounce around ideas?"

Vivian raised her hand and said, "I vote 'b'."

"Anyone have any ideas of what Viv can do to improve her powers?"

She blushed and mumbled under her breath about not wanting to go first. Everyone simply ignored her.

"Viv, what do you know you can do?" asked Gary.

"I… change colors. And speak to them. In a sense."

"How exactly can you match them?"

"If a drop of a color gets into a different color paint can and is mixed in, would you be able to tell the difference?"

"No…"

"Then for your purposes, I can match them exactly."

"What about texture?"

"No can do."

"No… What about trying to color something so that it _looks_ textured?"

And just like that, Viv went off to practice becoming a human chameleon.

It went on, until everyone split off to work, individually or in pairs, on their own project. I set off towards the treadmills, determined to find and expand the extent of my strength.

An hour later, when it was time to go home, I hadn't collapsed, which left me uncertain as to how much longer I could go. I'd averaged 11 miles an hour, letting myself break a sweat only because it was healthy. Usually I allowed myself to feel the burn in my muscles for character-building reasons and so I'd know when to stop, but this had been to test my limits while using my power. I clearly hadn't found them.

I kept back the pain until I got home and could feel the torture in private. I was almost afraid of what letting go would bring. Sprinting for an hour for someone who wasn't used to running… Well, that's not just something that you spring back from with nothing to show for it. I let my guard down all at once, which turned out to be a huge mistake. My legs collapsed beneath me, and with every breath my lungs felt ragged and overused, like I should have been wheezing the entire hour, but I hadn't allowed myself.

My mom, who must have heard me collapse, rushed in. "Oh my… Honey, what _happened_? Did you hurt something? Should I call the hospital? The doctor? An ambulance? I-"

I forced the pain in my lungs back so I'd be able to talk normally. "_Mom_." She stopped hyperventilating. "I'm fine. I was just testing my power today, and now I'm feeling the burn. I can't hold it off forever, I'd burn out."

"What did you _do_ to yourself?"

"I wanted to see how long my power could hold out. So I sprinted for the entire time we had the gym. I wasn't even beginning to feel tired when we had to leave."

"Because you wouldn't _let _yourself be tired, honey. You may not have felt it, but your body will eventually respond."

"That's the point."

"You're trying to work yourself to death?"

"No. I'm trying to find my limits in a safe environment so I can know how hard to push in the field without killing myself in the process."

My mother looked calmer now, but she pressed her mouth into a thin line, so I knew better than to think that she was happy with me. "If these "tests" are going to take such a toll on you, then perhaps you shouldn't be in this business at all. It's not to too late to transfer, you know."

Now _I_ was getting annoyed. How many times did I have to say it before she got the point? "_Mom._ I am not transferring anywhere. I want to be a sidekick. I want to be the _best_ sidekick. The only way to do that is to go to Sky High." I sat up, ridding myself of my fatigue as I went. "I'm going to a dance class."

Ignoring my mother's protests, I grabbed my dance bag and went out the door. By the time I got to Vitus, I saw Noelle, another dance teacher/receptionist, closing up. "Early night tonight," she explained. "I'm sorry, Haley." I must have looked as depressed as I felt, because she said, "I'm going to a dance club now with a couple of the instructors. As long as you don't try to order anything funky, they don't card there. I know you'd never do anything irresponsible, so… Want to come?" She smiled as I felt my face light up. "I'll take that as a yes."

We walked along the road, Noelle leading the way. She was nineteen, but she didn't make me feel like a little kid. She treated me as an equal, which was always nice. Most of the dance instructors at Vitus did the same. I might not have been their biological age, but I could dance as well as any of them, and they respected me for it.

The pounding music could be heard from the end of the block. We stowed our stuff in one of our fellow employee's cars, and walked inside.

The pounding music was even louder inside. Obviously, this was more of a hip-hop club than a salsa one. I grinned. I did like to be refined and perfect, but sometimes it was fun just to let loose, not care if the moves were pretty. Sometimes it's kind of fun to just shake your butt like no one's watching. And here, most people are doing just that, so I didn't even feel left out. Needless to say, I had a blast. Next thing I knew, it was eleven o'clock and I was rushing out of there, saying a hurried goodbye to Noelle and the other before skedadleling out of there.

As I expected, the second I walked through the door, my mother pounced. She usually isn't so big on rules and punishments, but staying out late with no call? BIG mistake. She worries a lot. As if my insistence on pursuing a career of danger, injury, and almost certain death (her words, not mine) weren't enough, she's always freaking that I'm going to get mugged or raped, or something. I'm usually such a good kid. I don't want to make her worry. But this time… God, HOW was I going to explain this? If I mentioned the word "club," she would immediately be on me with lectures about sex and drugs and alcohol. But lying to my mother is also out. She's almost as good as Phoebe with body language. If I so much as blink one time too many while saying something sketchy, she _knows._

"_Where_ have you been?" Usually so kind-mannered, late nights make my mother grumpy. Oh, and I had stayed out until 11:30 on a school night. That might have something to do with it.

"I…"

"You said you were going to a dance class. Those usually don't take _four hours_, the last time I checked."

"The school was closed, but Noelle invited me to this dance thing that she and a bunch of other instructors from the school were going to… I just lost track of time-"

"What dance thing?" Told you. She doesn't miss a trick.

"Well… It was…"

"A bar? Club?"

I sighed. This wasn't going to be pretty. "It was a club, mom, but I didn't drink anything! I just went to-"

"Dance?" Her mouth was practically invisible. "I don't care _what_ you were doing there, Haley, a club is no place for a fourteen year old girl! I don't care how closed Vitus was or how much you love to dance."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't ever do it again. Now go to sleep. You have to try to be awake tomorrow."

I walked into my room and closed the door. I hadn't had a chance besides one free period to do any homework, so I was basically screwed for tomorrow. I worked on some of it, but while I wasn't really tired, I couldn't concentrate on work either. I could still feel the music pumping through my body, demanding me to move on beat. It was exhilarating.

I did the best I could on the most important assignments for the next day, then lay down on my bed, trying to make myself tired. There was no reason for me not to be. It was nearly one in the morning. But I couldn't get that feeling out of my head, that feeling of being wide-awake and totally _alive_.

"Bad night's sleep?"

Opening my eyes and blinking at the brightness of the world around me, my brain slowly registered the blurry image in front of me. Big… brown skin… mocking me. Gotta be Bomb.

I swatted at him tiredly as he sat down, then rested my head back against the window. "Couldn't fall asleep."

"Why would that be?"

"Too excited."

"Excited? About what?"

"Dancing."

"Oh, not this again. Anyway, how in the world could you dance? You sprinted for an hour yesterday."

"You're forgetting my power."

"Ah. So how much longer were you able to go without collapsing?"

"Well, I danced in a club for four hours."

"A _club_? FOUR HOURS?"

Still trying to sleep, I told him the whole story. The only reason I had gone to sleep last night was that I allowed myself to feel the exhaustion (which I should have done at one- I can be so _dense_ sometimes) and I went to sleep almost immediately.

Bomb shook his head. "You're certifiably insane," he declared.

"Don't forget tired."

"Why don't you just use your power to make you bright eyed and bushy tailed again, like you always are? Disgustingly so, usually, might I add."

"Too tired."

"You do realize that if you used your power, you wouldn't be tired."

"Yes. I can't muster up enough energy to rid the tired from my body. _That's_ how tired I am. And anyway, this is good. I need to remember I'm not all-powerful and invincible. That's why I'm also allowing myself to feel the pain from yesterday."

"Like I said, certifiably insane. But while I'm at it, I'll add "masochist" to the list."

"But you want me to get it all out now, instead of waiting until I'm in the field to do something crazy and possibly suicidal without knowing the outcome. Or the aftereffects, come to think of it."

"How can you be as tired as you think you are if you're thinking so straight?"

"Mad skills, baby."

Bomb grinned (or that's what I _thought_ the blinding flash of white was), and kindly didn't bother me for the rest of the bus ride.

That night, as I lay in bed without the prospect of having to go to school the next day, I decided to do the unthinkable: Disobey my mother. The clock read one AM, and she would be fast asleep. I quickly dressed and left the apartment, sprinting for the club once on the street.

The next few months passed in a blur of exhaustion and bliss. I worked harder than ever at school and at my power, and a couple nights a week, I let my hair down. I didn't always go to the hip-hop club, though. After doing some research, I found some other places that would turn a blind eye to those underage. I was never interested in alcohol, anyway. All I wanted to do was dance the night away, always making sure that I was back and asleep by five, just in case mom woke early. I also had to take care that my grades didn't slip, thus alerting mom that something was up.

Thus went the rest of my freshman year, with nothing more exciting than a new discovery in someone's power. Vivian, after mastering patterns, graduated to mimicking texture and shadow to make her invisibility complete. Sarah was starting to be able to make people feel her illusions, rather than just see them, and was constantly writing more stories to bring to life. Seth, whose graduation that June would mean he would be out in the real world fighting real villains, worked on lifting larger objects and sending them at greater speeds. Emergy worked on various speeds of her "digestion," seeing if she could disintegrate a wall faster by speeding up her power to the end result, or slowing it in the stomach acid stage.

June arrived with a mixture of happiness and sorrow. On the one hand, we were out for the summer; on the other, Seth was leaving us to fight crime as Velocity. We teased him mercilessly that he had let his physics nerd side choose his name for him, but we knew we would all miss him and his inanimate object antics greatly.

On the last day of school, we all promised to keep in touch and hang out as much as possible. After my nudging, everyone also promised to keep thinking of new ways to work on their powers come the school year.

As the bell rang and the cheers sounded, I couldn't help but feel sorry that the year was over, and that things would be quite different next year.

* * *

**Sorry it's been so long! School (especially junior year) really _does_ suck. It's not just stories, my friends! But, thankfully, the year's almost over, and I'll be on summer break, too! Not like I'll have oodles of time to write fanfiction, but I'll do my best. Anyways, hope you liked! Reviews! PLEASE!**


	5. Tick, Tick

Tick, Tick

On the first day of summer break, I woke up and just lay there. I didn't have to be at the dance studio until three (and that was even factoring in the fact that I'm always absurdly early), and I had woken up at seven out of habit. I couldn't work on my power without much ogling at my endurance ensuing. We weren't allowed to use our powers outside of school anyway. I had a little summer work, but I was _not_ in the mood to sit at my desk for hours today.

I changed into shorts and a T-shirt. After pulling on a pair of sneakers, I scribbled a quick note to my mom, then sprinted down the stairs into the morning sunlight.

Running was exhilarating. I felt like a flower, converting the sun's light into energy. _So this is what it's like to be Emily_, I thought as I sped up.

Jogging is always a tricky business for me. My body's natural instinct is to avoid pain and shortness of breath, but to avoid stares and shortness of life, I force my body to sweat and my calves to burn. It takes a lot of concentration, which is why I didn't notice immediately that someone was watching me. When the back of my neck prickled, though, I slowed to a stop.

At first glance, I thought I was just being paranoid. To my right was a park full of playing children and sleepy parents; to my left was a street. When I concentrated on the shadows of an alleyway leading off the street, though, I noticed a pair of green eyes that locked on mine. The shadows stirred, and a wild-looking man emerged and began walking towards me. His hair was long and matted, and might have been blonde under the grime. More frightening than anything were those eyes: crazy, glittering, and evil.

I can control my body, but not my emotions. Fear coursed through my veins, turning to stone as it went, freezing me in place. My head was panicking, telling me to back away, towards the crowded park, but for once, my muscles wouldn't obey. I could only helplessly listen to my heart slam as he came closer…

_BANG._

Whatever the noise was, it made the man start and brought me to my senses. I turned tail and ran while he was looking the other way. The second I reached a park bench, a weakness quite foreign to me turned my legs soft and I flopped onto the seat. I glanced back at where the man had been, but he was gone.

My heart stopped when I felt someone drop next to me, but this time, I was prepared. In one motion, I stood I whacked whoever it was in the stomach as hard as I could.

Bomb was hunched over, clutching his stomach. Well, I may not look like much, but my power allowed me to hit _hard_.

"Jesus," was all he could say for a few moments.

"You should know better than to sneak up on a girl who had just been scared out of her mind." I plopped down next to him.

"But why couldn't you have saved the beating for him?"

"I… I froze, okay?"

"Yeah, I could see that. That's why I helped. At least, helped as best I could, seeing as I was several hundred feet away."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. This is what we're supposed to do. Superheroes help people, and that guy looked like trouble in all caps. You okay?"

"I will be. Eventually. But that's never happened to me before. I've never been so scared that I've lost control of my body."

"Yeah, I can imagine how losing your ability to power up could be scary."

"It's not just powering up… My power doesn't _involve_ powering up. My body just does what I tell it to. Period. That's why you can't really prove that I have a power, which is one of the main reasons I'm in sidekick class."

We sat in silence for a few moments. Bomb was probably thinking, but I was focusing on bringing my heart rate down.

"You're going to be a great hero, you know," I said, so suddenly I even surprised myself a bit.

He looked over at me. "Thanks. You will be, too."

"Not the way my education is going right now."

"A hero doesn't just mean what class you're put in. I know you're focusing on being the best sidekick in the world, and I believe you could be. But a hero is more than that. And I believe you can be so much more than just a sidekick, even if that's the only title you ever have."

In my fragile emotional state, I actually started to tear up. "Bomb, that is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Don't start crying on me now. I can deal with damsels in distress, but not with weepy women."

"I think one might come with the other. And I'm not a damsel in distress. I think I proved to you that I can kick some serious ass."

"It won't help if you freeze like that again."

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

"Well, then, I'll work on it."

"Please do. This city is full of creeps, and a pretty girl like you is a perfect target."

"Two compliments in such close proximity to each other? I don't think I can handle you being this nice to me."

"Are you kidding? I basically called you weak five seconds ago."

"Not weak. I have a weakness. Everyone does. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Nice to know you have such a good attitude about something that could get you killed."

"It won't. I'll strengthen my weakness or find a way to work around it. Now can we talk about something happier?"

"Sure. Why are you up so early?"

"Habit. I'm more of a morning person, anyway. You?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"I don't know. I just felt restless."

I waited in silence for him to elaborate.

"As a sort of side effect of my power, I have this sort of sense of when things are about to explode. I had to perfect the art of it: the right amount of pressure, then the flame. A while after I first powered up, I began to understand the science of it. Like, when something was about to be lit on fire, I could usually predict whether it would explode or not. Then I got so sensitive to pressure that I can basically sense it. The reason I couldn't sleep was because the air around me felt like it was under pressure. But not actual pressure, you know? I guess that's my way of sensing danger. I just don't know what will strike the match."

"Do you think that man had something to do with it?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I really don't know. All I know is that I'm hyperaware of everything. Which is lucky for you."

After a pause, I said, "Okay, this isn't making me feel happier."

Bomb smiled. "Sorry. I can't help it, at the moment."

We sat in an awkward silence for a few moments until I couldn't take it anymore. I stood.

"Let's split. This place is depressing me."

"Where to?"

"I don't know." An idea popped into my head and a mischievous grin grew on my face. "Do you want to go see how everybody's break is going?"

Bomb glanced down at his watch: 8:30. He grinned back, teeth flashing against his dark skin. "Yeah, I'm really starting to miss 'em."

"Who first?"

Fifteen minutes later found us at Sarah's house, vainly trying to figure out which one was her window so we could avoid speaking to her parents. After about five minutes of us circling her house like idiots, Sarah herself came to the door, her favorite black cat illusion twining about her legs. "Hey, guys!"

I felt the need to slap my forehead, but that seemed a bit childish… and not to mention clichéd.

"I feel like you woke up early this morning just to mock us."

She grinned. "It's entirely possible. You want to come in? My mom made muffins."

Lo and behold, sitting with her head on the table was Vivian, bleary eyed and barely recognizable because her hair wasn't her favorite shade of red; at the moment, her hair and eyes were both brown. "So _this _is what you're supposed to look like."

She swiveled her head to give me a sleepy glare.

"So do you want to come with us to bother some other lazy bums?"

Some muffled sound came from Vivian, whose head was now buried in her arms.

"What was that?"

With painful slowness, she turned her head towards Bomb. "I _said_, "It's summer." Sleeping in does not count as being lazy. Especially when you're up until three watching _The Fellowship of the Ring._"

I shook my head at their Tolkien nerdiness, which had manifested itself in other ways before this. "Well, do you?"

"Oh, _I _do," said Sarah earnestly. "I'm just not sure Viv is up to it. So I might just have to leave her here." I giggled.

It was then that Reuven wandered into the kitchen. He grabbed a muffin before noticing us and starting.

I was rather surprised myself. I had only met Sarah's parents briefly, but they hadn't struck me as the type of people who would allow their teenaged daughter to invite a guy to a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon/sleepover. So what was he doing in her house at nine in the morning, in his pajamas, no less?

Hurriedly, Sarah said, "Reuven's staying with us for a few weeks. He's a close family friend."

"Oh. Cool." Bomb, completely ignorant of things like mood, just grabbed another muffin. "Do _you_ want to come with us?"

"Where you going?"

"To wake people up."

He gave a small smile. "Sure."

"All right. C'mon, Viv," Sarah said, hoisting the other girl up by the arm and dragging her outside. "We don't need to be dressed, right?"

"Who needs it?"

Stopping at Phoebe's house was much more satisfying, especially because between the four (Reuven kept his mouth wired shut) of us, we figured out where her window was. Bomb, the strongest, hoisted me, the smallest, up to a branch that was right by her window. I tapped until she woke up, opened the window, and psychoanalyzed me as she climbed down the tree.

Shauna wasn't home, but Emily was, and she was more awake than even I was, which was no surprise. She jogged next to us as we walked to Gary's house.

"So did you guys hear?"

"Hear what, Em?" Vivian was a little snippy with us all for being much more alive than she was.

"About the breakout from the Supers Detention Center?"

_That_ woke her up. "What? How many?"

"Didn't say."

"That's bad," said Bomb. "When they're hiding the numbers, you know it's a big deal."

"Well, the police are on it, plus the Commander and Jetstream and a few other teams on constant patrol. Apparently, one of them is really dangerous. A crazy murderer, sounded like."

"How do you escape from Super jail? Everyone gets a Neutra-Clamp on their arm the second the handcuffs are off, and they're under constant watch."

"I don't know, and I don't think the police do, either."

"What does it matter? What matters is there's more supervillians in the street than usual. Good thing we're traveling in a pack."

I glanced at Bomb. "So is this the explosion?"

"No," he replied, a worried look on his face. "Not yet."

I know! I suck! I just haven't updated in months, and anyone who cares is now probably mad at me. But I can explain myself. You see, I was suffering. Suffering so much. Writer's block is really pretty painful stuff. But then, I got his with a stick of inspiration, and I immediately began writing this chapter. So hopefully this'll get the ball rolling. But I make no promises, seeing as school's starting Monday. But lemme tell ya, I've missed fanfiction. Oh, yes. It's good to be back.

Review even though I don't deserve it!

**-Arnold-**


	6. All Hell

All Hell

Well, I got a cell phone. The day of the breakout I got home to a rather hysterical mother who told me she was tired of not knowing where I was and not being able to reach me. So she marched me right over to the store where she got hers and signed me up, though we can hardly afford it. Which is why my mom didn't need to make it very clear to me that I would only use it for emergencies. But she did anyway. Typical. (Not to mention the fact that I tried to talk her out of it. I mean, you'd think a kid begging her mom _not_ to get her a cell phone would understand the implications of having one. Even though it was her idea, I still felt guilty and resolved to help pay for it by taking up another class at Vitus, and making sure they paid me on time.)

I mean, I understood why she was so worried. It wasn't like any petty criminals had gotten out, just the high security homicidal psychopaths (and _really?_ Did God like making our lives into some kind of soap opera?). But just once, it would be nice if she could trust that I could sort of take care of myself.

* * *

"Did Baron Battle escape?"

Everyone stared at Bomb. It was a week after the breakout, and the matter still weighed on Maxville's mind, so we usually ended up talking about it, even when trying to relax. But this question was a little specific, even for us.

"The police still haven't published an escapee list," Emily answered. Because she could function quite cheerily on three hours of sleep, she never missed the 5 AM news, and was therefore the most informed of our group. "They haven't finished cleaning up the place yet, and they say it's because they don't know which prisoners are missing and which ones are dead. Which is plausible, I guess. It must be pretty hard to tell an escaped villain from a charred one."

"But it's pretty unlikely, no?" asked Sarah. "I mean, he was one of the highest security prisoners in there. Underground, solitary, fireproof cell in case the neutralizer failed. Unless the bomb went off right near his cell, someone would have had to come and unlock it for him to escape."

"And who do we know who could have done that?" asked Bomb quietly.

"No!" Phoebe and I understood first. "There's no way," I added. Phoebe took it from there.

"Warren Peace is an angry kid, but he would never do something like that. The world has been really unfair to him. All his life, he's been riled about being Baron Battle's son, and he hates his father for laying that on him. Now the world thinks he's an inch from villain, but he's going to do everything he can to prove them wrong."

We sat in stunned silence for a moment. Gary finally broke the silence with "You're scary sometimes, you know that?"

Grinning, she added, "Plus, you know James Griffin, the one in our class with wings? Well, he goes a little bonkers if he goes too long without flying, so he's going up to the school a couple times a week to practice. Anyway, he overheard Peace talking to Principle Powers. She doesn't suspect him. He wanted to make sure."

We were all too busy thinking about what she said to call her a cheater. Pheobe, still smiling smugly, concluded with an eloquent "So there" and elegantly stuck her tongue out at Bomb. Rueven cracked up.

"Wait… You talk to Griffin?"

"Well, we're neighbors and our parents are friends, so it would be a little awkward if I didn't talk to him every now and then."

"You want to introduce me?" asked Shauna. Everyone stared. "What? He's cute." Sarah, sitting closest, punished her accordingly.

With Shauna rubbing her side and complaining about the boniness of elbows, all hope for a serious conversation was lost.

After the initial hubbub, people gradually forgot the increased number of supervillians clogging the streets. This was mostly because they kept their heads down. Over the next few weeks, with crime rates staying almost exactly the same, the breakout gradually faded to the recesses of the public mind, so that barely anyone could think about it for an extended period of time, particularly not a group of rambunctious teenagers who really just wanted to have fun. So eventually our conversations turned from villains to the newest summer flick. The most serious conversations we had were eager brainstorms about what to work on in the coming year. But even those were few and far between.

While not wasting time with my friends, I was putting off schoolwork as much as I could in order to maximize dance time. I taught more classes (helped by the fact that I was finally fifteen, and therefore legally allowed to work) and took more classes at Vitus Dance, and when I was offered a spot in the Vitus Company, I jumped at the opportunity. It meant a lot of extra hours and late nights (that I was careful to keep from my mother as much as possible), but I loved every minute.

With all that I was doing, the summer seemed to be flying by. I had basically forgotten about the prison break by the time all hell broke loose.

* * *

It started out as a trickle, a slight increase in the number of super-robberies and assaults. Then, a twenty-six year old girl ended up dead walking home in downtown Maxville. By the time the Commander arrived on scene, she had no pulse and her murderer was long gone. As if the killing was some kind of signal, crime escalated wildly, with higher numbers than Maxville had seen since the simultaneous reigns of the Hangman and Black Shadow, over thirty years before. The villains knew about the number of cops and heroes on the streets, and planned for it. They were attacking smart, taking advantage of the terror to stir up more, creating more chaos and a better workplace for themselves. Too smart and too quiet to be caught, always outwitting the law keeping forces and getting away.

And it worked. People were panicked, trying to exercise caution, but making big mistakes in their fright. Everyone traveled in groups, but sometimes they would leave one behind.

My mother was one of the few who kept her head. She never allowed me to walk anywhere alone, and I told her that I expected the same thing from her. We worked out a plan: I would take the bus with her to work, and then either stay and volunteer at her branch of the Bureau Hospital, or run over to Bomb's apartment, just down the street, where I'd hang until I used the power of my puppy dog eyes to force him to walk me to Vitus. (They always worked.)

Despite the fear in the streets, I loved the chance to get to hang out with Bomb. We talked about what it was like to live in what was basically a war zone, we laughed when we wanted to forget about our fright, we read to one another, we danced to the eighties CDs playing in a boom box almost as old. We wondered how on Earth it was we never got sick of one another.

"I know… you're only pretending to be my friend so I'll walk you places."

"But that only explains why _I _never seem to get tired of _you_. What's you're excuse?"

"I'm planning on tying you to a chair and making you help me with my homework?"

I snorted (rather beautifully, I may add).

"Oh, I know. It's because I love it when you make disgusting noises like that."

All I needed was to throw my fist at him like I was going to punch him for him to flinch. Oh, yes. He had learned to respect me.

"Hey, Bomb?"

"Yeah?"

"This is kind of random, but remember when you were telling me that this city was under pressure?" He nodded. "Is it exploding now?"

The laughter was gone from his face. "Yeah. Only, I don't think anyone really knows what the match was. Or when the fire will run out of oxygen."

* * *

Thankfully, it did, eventually. After four weeks of almost nonstop crime, the rates went back down to normal within another week. Maxville couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, even though the smart citizens knew that there would be more where that came from. The scary thing hadn't really been the crime; it had been the fact that the villain world seemed organized for once, all working somewhat together to wreak the most havoc. The one big advantage heroes always had over villains was the fact that heroes were united, and villains had almost an inability to do the same. It was much easier for a Bureau to fight multiple, independent villains than an army of them.

But the relief continued as the summer went on, people rebuilding their lives and beginning to trust the system again. Only my mother and I continued our routine, partly because I enjoyed spending time with my otherwise overworked mom, and partly because she was a little paranoid. But I didn't mind that much; I continued to spend time with Bomb and all my other friends.

Three weeks after the end of the crime rampage, it was time for school again. And boy, did we feel we needed it.

**I'm going to stop trying to explain myself. I have too short of an attention span to update regularly. I should be medicated…**


	7. The New Year

**NOTE: When this story appeared in your email and you recognized the name of the story and not the name of the author, hopefully you deduced that I have switched my penname to ThePotterGeek. For more info, see my profile. (Although, not much more info than I'm giving you now.)**

**Also, a HUGE thank-you to Talis Ruadair, who pointed out a rather gigantic mistake, which I have rectified. If you spotted it before I revised this chapter, good for you, if not, I'm not telling, it's too embarrassing.**

**ONWARDS!**

**The New Year**

Usually, every kid at Sky High approaches a new school year differently. Some dread the hours spent thousands of feet in the air, some are excited to see their friends again. Some, strangely enough, are even excited for classes. But that year, lurking at the back of everyone's minds, amidst the usual feelings, was what had transpired not weeks before. Whatever we were feeling superficially about school, after living in fear for four straight weeks, we had a renewed sense of how important our studies were.

Which is why, at least on the first day, the busses and hallways were a little more subdued than usual. Fewer people terrorized the freshman coming from Power Placement into the cafeteria. Fewer shrieks of excitement were heard in the hallways. The summer had aged us all.

Before first period on our second day back, Principal Powers held a welcome assembly. But instead of delivering the usual announcements, she talked about the Time of Terror (as citizens were beginning to call it) and stressed that that time should help us focus on classes this year, and that we should work our hardest to ensure that something like that never happens again.

I was sitting with Bomb on one side of me and Gary on the other, both looking as grave as all the other seniors. I sighed with relief that I wasn't in their shoes. They were the ones everybody would be counting on once graduation came. All of a sudden, nine months didn't seem like such a long time.

"Lastly," Principal Powers called out, and I turned my attention back to her, "I strongly encourage everyone to join a super club this year. It will really help those of you that wish to improve beyond the classroom. You're dismissed."

"Wow," I muttered. "Has she ever made an announcement like _that_ before?"

"Never," said Gary. "Just imagine how scared she _really_ is."

Despite what happened over the summer, there was no change in our curriculum. Except for the fact that all the sidekicks were working harder, nothing altered in our day-to-day education. But I couldn't help but notice the teachers were pushing the heroes harder than they had been the year before. The knowledge burned inside me, a hot anger that I couldn't ignore.

"Haley? Thank you for seeing me. Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Please, have a seat."

I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding and plopped down in the chair opposite Principal Powers. I had been called out of Mad Science and told that the Principal wished to see me. It was only the second week, and I had no idea what I possibly could have done wrong.

"I just wanted to talk to you about the club that you started last year. Coach Boomer is very impressed with all that you accomplished last year."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "He is? He never said anything to us."

Principal Powers chuckled a little and said, "He never said anything to me, either. But after working with him all these years, I can tell when he's only not saying something because he doesn't want to admit he was wrong. He told me at the beginning of the year that he didn't think it was a good idea. By the end, he would barely say a word to me aside from his basic reports.

"From what he's told me, and from what I've seen, you have all been helping one another find your limits and discover new things to do with your powers. That's what most super clubs entail. But you all have such different powers, and are all so driven- even the hero support. Perhaps especially them," she added with a significant look at me. "Since you're the one who originally came to me, I decided to call you in here to ask you if you would open up your club a little more. First of all, many of the clubs could follow your example. Second, there are too many in the hero support class who don't join super clubs because they're intimidated by the heroes. They'll feel more comfortable in yours, with its healthy mix, which is really all we want to do."

I stared at my hands, unsure of what to do. It was weird that she was calling it "my club." True, I did come up with it and ask for permission, but it belonged to everyone who participated in it. I also didn't know how I felt about allowing other people in. We wanted to keep it serious, and didn't know if allowing strangers to participate would end well.

After I had been silent for a few minutes, Principal Powers said, "I understand that originally you wanted to keep it small, but I really think this could help everyone, especially those who feel helpless after this summer." I stared at her for a moment, slowly realizing that she understood what it had been like to be a kid during those four weeks, unable to really go anywhere or do anything. It left more people than just me feeling helpless and frustrated. I nodded.

"I'll give you until the end of the week to think about it and ask the current members."

"She _what_?"

"Bomb, chill," I said quickly. "It's a compliment, I guess. I just wanted to ask how you all felt about it. If it gets too out of hand, we'll take care of it."

"So I'm guessing you're for it?" asked Phoebe.

I rolled my eyes at her. "You never guess at anything, Phoebes." Reuven chuckled. "But yes, I am. The more I think about it, the more it seems like a good idea. As long as whoever joins is serious about training, we can only gain by adding more diversity. The more we experience in here, the better prepared we'll be to face what's out there." For once, no one argued with me. "I'm going to tell her that we're all in."

The next few days found us putting up signs all over the school, letting everyone know where we were meeting. After a lot of pressure from everyone, I accepted the role of club president. A lot of people came up to me to tell me how excited they were or to ask whether or not they could join. Even though the flyer said everyone was welcome, most people couldn't grasp the idea. Most, if not all, super clubs were themed, like the Fire Club, the Water Club, and the Shifter Club. Some people who I knew for a fact were members of other clubs came over to tell me they were coming to get some extra training. They all seemed dedicated and enthused, and I looked forward to following Wednesday.

All in all, more than a dozen new people showed up, which, added to all of us from last year, made almost thirty people in total. Kind of mind-boggling, if you ask me.

"Hey, everyone," I began at four thirty, once I was fairly certain nobody else would be showing up. I could hardly keep my voice from shaking. I wasn't used to addressing people like this, but I forced a huge smile on my face and began, "Welcome! I'm really happy so many people showed up. Can we just go around, say your name and your power? You can leave out what class you're in. No one cares," I added, somewhat harshly. Taking a deep breath, I began, "I'm Haley, and I have complete control over my body."

After everyone had introduced themselves, the group had brainstormed ideas of what everyone wanted to do individually, with a few partners, even things in larger groups. One of the shapeshifters (there were three) even suggested that we battle one another like in Save the Citizen once all of us felt more comfortable with our powers and limits.

I couldn't stop grinning for the whole busride back to the ground. At this meeting, there had been powerful heroes sitting alongside sidekicks and socializing quite civilly. There was even a chance that we all might be very good friends by the time this year is out. I thought that this might be the first time some of them had really associated with anyone from another class, unless it had involved stuffing someone's head in a toilet. I felt as though I had helped weaken the barrier between hero and sidekick.

The club was what kept me from exploding from frustration every day in school when I experienced firsthand how expendable the super world considered us. Knowing that I was doing all that I could to empower myself and others helped me keep my head whenever Mrs. Rimmel (formerly Spark, a weak pyrokinetic, our sophomore year teacher) taught us something about how to aid our heroes in the field or whenever Coach Boomer's gaze passed over the sidekick section at Save the Citizen like we didn't even exist.

Not that the classes weren't interesting, of course. We learned about and worked with more complicated gadgets than the year before, progressed further in history (with the added information of superhero help, of course), and worked more with our powers during gym. Mrs. Rimmel was a much better teacher than Mr. Boy had been, if only because she was more confident and less run-down than he. She had been shunted from hero to hero, including having been active for quite some time alongside none other than Baron Battle, Warren Peace's father and a notorious villain. In fact, she was the one who alerted the Bureau when she realized something was wrong, and had aided in his capture. After his arrest, the Bureau felt so bad that they had saddled her with a psyco that they offered her early retirement with full benefits. She had refused and gotten herself assigned to a new hero and worked for another thirteen years. When she turned sixty, she was finally persuaded to retire, and prompty offered a teaching job at Sky High when she complained about being bored for the rest of her life. This was only her second year teaching, but no one could tell.

Along with their normal courses, Mrs. Rimmel dedicated a half an hour twice a week to understanding villains. She told them that this was important for knowing how to fight them. In fact, her understanding of Baron Battle, having worked alongside him for several years, had been her main way of helping the authorities find him. A strange combination of psychology and history, this was by far the most interesting hour of the week- at least, in my opinion.

All in all, she was a fascinating person; exactly the sort of person I wanted to be. She was tough and determined, and the fact that she was a sidekick hadn't stopped her from saving the day.

Knowing that it was possible to be an amazing sidekick was also a huge help in keeping me from bashing my brains in. Inspired by Mrs. Rimmel's life story, I worked harder than ever, and encouraged as many people as I could to do the same.

Meanwhile, the club was growing, slowly but surely. The new kids apparently liked it and invited their friends. There was even one kid (who I'd never spoken to before) that came up to me to ask me if the club could meet more than once a week, because he couldn't make it Wednesday afternoon. Feeling slightly stunned, I told him I'd ask.

Quite a few people in the club were all for it. Several people said that they couldn't make it on certain days, and some said they couldn't make it any other day. But enough people were interested to warrant a trip to Principal Powers's office.

Feeling as though I'd soon become very close with the principal if we had many more meetings like this, I gave my name to Ms. Wright the next day before class started.

"If you think you'll be finished before first period begins, I can send you in now."

I smiled and said, "That would be great."

She showed me into the office, and Principal Powers looked up and smiled. "Haley! How nice to see you. Have a seat." I sat, and heard the door click as Ms. Wright closed it behind her. "How is everything?"

"Good."

She smiled widely at me. "I hear your club is getting quite popular, with about forty people, if I've been correctly informed. And Mrs. Rimmel says you're an outstanding student. That's a little more than 'good', if I may say so."

My face got really warm, and embarrassment coupled with my natural shyness kept me from speaking for a few moments. "Um… thanks," I finally managed to say. Then, I continued quickly as I could, "I'm actually here to ask if we could have the gym another day. One kid asked me if we could meet on another day so that he could come, and I've asked around and no one really seems to be against it, so…"

"Of course. I just want to say that I'm very impressed with this club and everything that you're accomplishing. I wouldn't allow for this if I didn't know that you'd be using this time wisely."

"Thanks," I said again, face feeling hotter than ever, and at that moment, to my relief, the bell rang, so I quickly arranged for Monday afternoons and nearly sprinted from the office.

**Much better timing in my opinion, even if it isn't the best chapter in the world. More will happen, don't you worry. I just have to get back on my feet with the whole updating thing, that's all.**


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